You Fight Like A Girl
by domina tempore
Summary: Natasha is on the verge of plummeting to her death. Again. Luckily, the morons doing the pushing aren't holding all the cards.


**Avengers: _You Fight Like A..._**

_Disclaimer: Marvel belongs to someone amazing. Since I am neither someone nor amazing, it's not mine. No copyright infringement intended!_

_Author's Note: Written for the prompt "Lifeline", courtesy of SisAngel. Love you, girl! _

**ovo**

Overall, Natasha supposed it could be worse. Sure, she had been caught for real this time (as in _not_ part of an interrogation technique). Yes, she'd been locked up, beat up (she'd say "tortured", but she was Russian and her captors so obviously were not), and squeezed for every last bit of (false) information that she possessed. And maybe she was, through no fault of her own, about to be thrown off of a cliff.

But these were all minor setbacks, causing a moderate challenge at best. This all was just something to get the heart pumping a bit. If anything, she was almost having fun.

She eyed the group of her captors, fixing her gaze on the one in front who had been tasked with the ever-so-messy job of sending her over the edge. He was the most recent addition to the group, and the others seemed to see him as the rookie who still needed to prove himself. Well, she could certainly give them a show.

"You really don't want to do this," she warned, raising a split eyebrow. She thought she saw a smirk touch the corners of his mouth. "We both know how this will end."

He managed to keep his face straight, but there was no hiding the amusement in his tone. "It ends the way I want it to," he said with a cheeky wink. "We hold all the cards."

Behind him, the five senior members of the group exchanged approving glances; this was exactly what they had been hoping to hear. Natasha could have laughed in their faces if she ever let herself slip (she didn't). She loved over-confident men; they were so easy to manipulate. "I can't tell you how many times I've heard that one," she shot back.

"Oh, please do shower us with the details, and don't leave out a single embarrassing word."

Hm. "Look, if you're gonna kill me, then don't bore me with bravado."

"But it's so much fun." He took a step closer.

"I was never one for long goodbyes," she narrowed her eyes. "Do it."

"_With pleasure."_

There were two thoughts that were brilliantly clear in Natasha's mind as his booted foot connected with her chest and sent her sailing into empty space. The first was how glad she was that the morons who had caught her _weren't_ holding all of the cards. The second, as the "rookie" shot an arrow past her (she slipped her bonds easily and grabbed the line trailing behind it) was that she was _very_ glad that Clint was.

She used the now-taut line as leverage to pivot herself back towards the cliff, and then run up the side to join Clint in calmly (non-lethally) dispatching of the remaining five men (idiots). When they were all sufficiently motionless and ready to be taken into custody, she radioed S.H.I.E.L.D. with their location.

Clint was smirking at her when she finished the report. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. That was just a nice show you put on; almost had me fooled, even."

"You like that? I thought you might. I forget you don't usually get to see me work."

"Well, let's just say I'm glad Fury sent me in to save your butt."

Natasha scoffed at him. "Fury sent you as a courtesy; I _could_ have managed just fine, thank you."

"Sure, just like you managed Chechnya." He winked. "You didn't need me then, either."

"I was figuring it out," Natasha protested, lips turned up at the corners in a tiny grin. "I just needed a little more time."

"Okay. If it makes you feel better..."

She punched him in the arm. "What about Madrid?" she countered smoothly. "Who was it again who needed the rescue on that job?"

"You're bringing up Madrid? Cheap shot!"

"Hey, I'm not the one who almost got skewered with my own arrows. There's no excuse for that kind of carelessness."

"Carelessness? Need I remind you of the Morocco job...?"

Back at the S.H.I.E.L.D base, Maria Hill was listening to their stream of arguing still coming in over the radio (they always kept tabs), and feeling very confused. She glanced up from her work station to see Fury chuckling quietly as he listened in. "I take it that the 'old married couple' thing is normal, Sir?"

Fury snorted. "Normal is not the word I would choose to describe it, Hill. That doesn't mean we can't appreciate the novelty."

"I see." Maria turned back to her computer, but she wondered if Fury always had so much fun spying on his spies.

_fin._


End file.
